Blogpost from thursday night when the internet wasn't working

I am watching West Side Story and eating Tabouleh. Say Alexis do you like tabouleh, can you eat a lot of it? Yes. Yes.

So I realized work is sucking the life out of me. I’m thinking about my personal statement. Hey – grad students - Is “The life is being sucked out of me and I am really really sure that I like it better when it’s not” a good “thesis” for a personal statement?

I am fine. Everything is fine.

But I don’t want to anymore I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to be quick about connecting people to other people on the phone – even that! How do people do it? How do they do it?

Oh yes --- The AIIIIIIIIIR is hummmmmmmmming.

Anybodys is a wonderful character in West Side Story. Is anybody actually Puerto Rican is West Side Story? Tony sort of looks it… funny.

When I hate work this much I am getting my period. That is what is happeneing. Hormones are really interesting. I need to read Medea. I need to re-read Medea with the idea that she was hormone imbalanced.

I am really mad about work. Work today made me mad about everything. And nothing happened to me, per se. And that does not help.

Natalie Wood – so lovely, such a bizarre accent. It doesn’t matter.

The singer for Natalie Wood is amazing.

I finished watching it now. It’s incredible. Shakespeare. Leonard Bernstien. Jerome Robbins. Stephen Sondheim. Slain I am. And Natalie Wood’s accent improved and improved over shooting I think.

heart

This is your correspondant blogging from within the annals of power. Assiting the CEO this week. Oh did you know he is also the chariman of the hmmm-hmmm. It’s too sensitive – I can’t tell you anymore!

I love this shit. I am trying to incorporate it into my play which is now not just about boys but also about men a little bit! And adequacy, inadequacy and power. Anyway, don’t worry about that. Just this...

Some things never change whether you’re at your kitchen counter on Sked Street or in the heart of HQ NYC. One of those things is junk mail. Junk mail is amazing. Why was this sent? We need answers. Why do we live knowing we’ll die? What is the soul and where does it reside? Who sends this trash by mail?

Also, on the subject of Xmas cards – if you have a COMPANY - or you have COMPANY CONTACTS, send an invitation to a party or send nothing at all. Save a tree. Save an admin.

XO
miss you
A

Falling asleep last night

I resolved never to write on my blog again. But here I am, because I'm bored.

Anyway, one thing I left off the to-do list was start sending out the recommendation forms. I'm going away this weekend, and have a class tomorrow so this probably won't be worked on til Sunday but if you read this blog, you are welcome to remind me how I have to do this.

Also, I want to go home right now!!!! Do you think it's okay to ask my boss if I can leave early since I won't really have anything to do here later either I don't think. I think I'm going to. Thank the lord I've worked here over a year now and think it's fair to say this isn't a place where anyone is going to talk to me about being "proactive.' Knock on wood.

Do you love Andrew Bird? yes I love Andrew Bird. Got the latest CD as a gift. It isn't "the Mysterious Production of Eggs" because nothing ever will be, but oh. oh.

love
Alexis

my to-do list?

Sorry about the blog. Whole lot of empty head. Maybe now that I finally have an apartment and the job is sucking not enormously I have less to say. plus facebook. I really am sorry.

So, uh, my to do list:
pay rent
wash self
laundry & Shopping - when is myfriendh coming back? - she should do this with me.
Oh God Shopping. Who needs gifts? I want stuff from Lush.
Bank - deposits -- change address????????? can they handle that??
Wells Fargo- loan payback - write check
swiffer - buy and use.
get chairs for kitchen
One woman show. fuck the kitchen chairs, that's my rehearsal space.
Applications. Oh maybe, if I feel like it -- but see there's the one woman show and the museum for research is only open til 6:00 - problemo.

8 million crushes - okay, let's be realisitic, 575,000 crushes in the naked city. Problematic when starting to date a nice new person or no? just live with it the way one always does no?

Is this seriously my blog today? yes it seriously is.

love

lots of love

so into andrew bird. It is lucky how people keep making music that means something to some people isn't it? I thought the musicians might be running out soon, but they keep coming so screw these "world ends in 4 years" people.

love
A

Guys I am so hyper

Really... I'm crazy right now. Free-write!

So today I put "I'm leaving" in the mail to the Lark Play Development Center and that is why I'm insane a ce moment. The barest of revision, the erasure of my contact info, the attachment of stamps; I bopped in line at the post office. I feel nuts.

All submission to anything is not fit for human minds - or this human mind. I hate dichotomy. Or let's say I stress dichotomy (see Yom Kippur.) In this case it goes: "This is painful - I do not at all think they will want to develop this play." or instead, "This is painful - I hope they see enough in this weirdo thing to remember my name if I have something ele for them next year - which I'll feel the same about!"

WHATEVER. The plus side is maybe doing all this envelope stuff today and pulling out my resume will put me more in application mode for schools. I'm sort of through thinking I'll get into any this year - but as above, I think I should get something together so schools get used to getting applications from me. It's just not good for my brain. School would be so fun for me. Imagine not coming to the office. That will be a whole other thing for my brain. And then there is the question of deserving. And the question of fishing for conch in the Bahamas for the rest of my life. I feel crazy today.

I love Andrew Bird music.

I had a fun housewarming see facebook.

Per Andrew Bird - listened to on the subway today. Guess what? i don't know what commodities are. (sometimes I start thinking baout what words mean when I'm listening to his songs) I thought I knew this one -- it's something saleable no? But what is a commodities trader then? What if you work in "commodities?" Maybe I don't know English.

Also, possibly facebook makes this blog more retarded than ever. It has "status" thingy and it has pictures too.

Crazy today. Coffee today.

My apartment is wonderful. It's okay if I don't get into schools. It's okay if I don't finish my applications even. But I have so much feeling absolutely unhinged to look forward to if I do!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Alexis

Well this was pretty funny...

On the phone with A last night, she told me her friend got her a ticket to come visit her in Orange county. Her friend asked if she'd like to go out to Hollywood during her visit...

Me: "When you visited me in LA, I lived in Hollywood... but did we go out at all?"
A: "Yeah... the night we took those pictures of ourselves on the hoods of cars all over..."
Me: "Oh yeah...."
A: "We looked like hookers..."
Me: "Oh yes!!! Yes! I remember that... we were on Highland... Yes, you've definitely been out in Hollywood..."
A: "Yeah... and those girls acutally asked us to be hookers with them."
Me: Oh my God that's right! They were like... they were like..."
A: "Come be hookers with us"
Me: "Yes!"

oh lots of things

On Wednesdays, I go to Grand Central in the morning. As you may know, I always get a seat on the train, being that it's the end/start of the line where I live. So, eventhough I could change at Queensboro Plaza - to the 7, I don't. 59th and Lex to the 4,5,6? No. I'm not risking it. I go all the way to 42nd and switch to the shuttle. Do you know how people are feeling between 42nd Times Square and 42nd Grand Central. Well- from what I can tell by reading facial expression and body language- monumentally shitty every last one of them. At 8:50 am all along 42nd street we be so unhappy! C'mon my people, do you really have somewhere else to be right now that would be so much better? Have you noticed that when that other train is going past when we're walking to track four for the shuttle it's kind of like at disneyWorld when you see part of the roller coaster ride from in-line? I think you haven't!

So I guess I'm chipper. Without coffee, I never would be.

childhood memory: (we're getting in every conceivable blog thing today I've decided):

I am very small! We live in a house in New York City. Oh yes, I am like a girl in a book, in fact I have many personalized books about me and my birthday from mail order. We have a kitchen with black and white checked linoleum. We have jars full of jelly beans. They are not to eat. They are for decoration. The phone rings in the kitchen and I climb a stool and answer it. It is Brian, my friend, and the plumber's son, who lives next door. He says, "You have to get your mom, there's a bomb on your doorstep."

I say, "You're lying. I won't get her. There's not a bomb on the doorstep."

It turned out there was a BUM on the doorstep. This was the first time I heard the word "bum." We never did get rid of the bum on the doorstep and it was troubling to my mother because I loved him and played with his hair.

Imaginary conversation I want to have with my Mom one day.

Mom: What are you doing thanksgiving?
Me: Well, since I've gone to my dad's house for over ten years on Thanksgiving and I really like it, I think I'll go there.
Mom: Oh that's right - you really enjoy celebrating that there. That's a tradition you like. Well so go there sweetheart. You should go there and stay there since that's easier for you and it doesn't mean you hate me or choose him or anything like that because they make a big deal of thanksgiving and you enjoy it so. I'm obsessed with the christmas picture of course, becasue we haven't cultivated any other family tradition really -- but we can take that picture any time, and it's only meaningful to me, obviously -- I mean why would all four of you children lie about despising it? havea good time and try to see us sometime over the weekend though, okay?

More blog things...

I constantly read the blog of Gabriel Delahaye... which is called corporate-casual.com. I have written this here in case he ever googles himself, and finds this blog, and wants to hang out because he is hilarious and I think we should be friends or lovers or something. My blog is not as funny. His is the go-to for consistent hilarity. But I think we'd really enjoy eachother because I like to deconstruct movie posters as much as he does.

Okay.. more soon... let me keep drinking this coffee!!!!! Oh and comment bitches. I mean H and KFR... Idalia is so over won't get therapy and gwazdor is so busy with art. (oh link and watch his video from his show -- it's awe SOME.)

love
Alexis

Also, I appreciate any opportunity to write say or meet at "Houlihan's in Penn Station"

Tombstone possibility. :)

I have no choice

I have to post to the blog because I'm receptioning today and z phones r slow... so it's irrelevant whether I'm compelled to post or not... there's nothing else to do.

The weekend was a good one. Myfreindh and I bought tickets for an Amtrak train to go to Connecticut and then missed the train altogether cus we were lesiurely having a bloody mary and a snack at the Houlihans in Penn Station. Then we got our act together and rented a car, which turned out to be probably an even better plan than the original ride-the-train one. I loved driving the way there --- autonomy and a quicker thinker than myself in charge of the direcs. Perfect conditions. Myfriendh drove back because those Oberlin alums, they party so damn hard -- anyway, I couldn't drive, but Myfriendh did and there you have it - another fall weeekend outside state lines. Superb. Also, I was very impressed with A's art; A is who we were visiting in Connecticut and her painting is very affecting, dark, and lovely.

Then myfriendh stayed over in Astoria when we got back and I got to show off my little neighborhood, the cupcake place, the celing fan, my abilities cutting boxes.

I hope I get inspired to post about something besides my weekend soon. Nothing else coming to mind yet though... Besides, there's nothing quite like missing the train or screwing up the train or any kind of train-realted logistical problem with myfriendh. There is a potential for legend there... still developing.

Well that was long.

:)

A story about the past

So you know how when I get truly exhausted I start feeling bad about myself?

I was, effectively, exhausted all day yesterday. I mysteriously, really mysteriously because this practically never happens, was awake at 5:30 am. Maybe I was excited to assist the big shots I got transferred to assist in the MetLife building 3 days (now 2 days) a week... I don't know. I decided fine, I'd just go in to the Monolith early.. I'd left copies to make anyway.

I was so early that I killed time before 9:00am by answering Rhett's email that said to please send him a sample of my writing. He'd called requesting the same about a month ago. So it was easy enough to do - I sent the one full length play along with an email that said, you know, here it is but gee I feel funny abut staying in touch with him because (for the hundredth time) I once got locked out of my old apartment (when it was new to me) in a blizzard at three am and didn't know where to go and he refused to help me... causing me to display great anguish in a bar where I was eventually aided by the good drunks of Queens, New York. This happened about two years ago.

So I send the play attached to an email saying I don't know how to feel about staying in touch with him based on said self-defining/life-defining event; then I have absolutely nothing to do at the office the whole day through. It's basically humiliating -- big shots doing big shot things - and me attempting only to read high brow things on my visible screen -- it's not easy to even find high brow things on the internet -- so by the time I take my lunch hour, I am feeling old melancholy about Rhett - it wasn't a whole lot of thoughts, more a tired sad feeling, - nothing to be done, I loved him whether he was worthy or not- and patheticness about how much sitting with nothing before me I do under flourescent lights, and dissapointment in that play about boys which I'm fairly sure sucks -- remembered conversations probably do not a play make - I don't think I'll like it enough to send it to any schools as application material.

So then Rhett called at night when I was home and making a snack and I didn't pick up. He left a message that he'd read the whole play and wanted to talk about it and it was really good. "You can get better but it's really good." So at this point, I've actually tried to leave my house once (for more wine? - dvds?) already and found myself sitting on the floor woozy and concluded I couldn't make it - I'm so exhausted. (why didn't you get in bed and go to sleep? Oh shut your face - it was 8:45 or something -- I couldn't do that!) So I start watching a Sopranos with commentary and call Rhett. voicemail. I leave one. By the time I call again, I'm quite convinced that I'm calling to say, "Listen, I'm not kidding about that one moment being too defining for me. When we get in contact I feel bad all day. Thanks but no thanks." (I do know this sounds stupid now. This is the point of this post believe or not. I mean, I do know that if that's how I feel, I should simply not send him plays I wrote, for example. ) But this time he picks up and we talk for way over an hour, possibly two hours.

It was nice and he was very very flattering. It's more than flattery with Rhett though because after all, we even lived together - even if we mostly hated eachother then - nonetheless, it rarely gets closer - psyche wise - than that. After he and I broke up, so many people told me how he was obviously crazy, how I wasn't myself with him, how much smarter than him I was that it could never work. I agree about the smarter part practically 100%. I agree with all of that in fact and I did then. But, also so does he. He knows and he doesn't like it - THAT'S what's going on there. But he really wants to know me, I guess for his whole life. He also really REALLY REALLY wants me to come visit Vermont. Don't worry, readers - that will never happen. As I told him, all that would be would be however many days I was there of me vacillating between being able to talk to him - half-good conversations - and viscerally remembering that no one has ever hurt me more than he did. What fun!

So this post is all about reality, I think. Reality is just not simple, gentle lovely friends. The reality of this situation is that it's nice to talk to Rhett- I was exhausted - I couldn't even think about my play - he got that. He doesn't get everything but he gets a lot about me, in much much nicer terms than I sometimes understand myself too -- sometimes. I know manipulation when ihear it - and this isn't that. He does think highly of me - it's not an act. And he doesn't know what he's doing - he's trying so hard to go to med school to be a psychiatrist that "helps people get off medication." (I'll never understand his preoccupation with helping people not be on medication.) He still works with kids. (A four year old stopped breathing the other day and he didn't know CPR - but she was alright. It's always something so alarming with him though!) I mean he's this pathetic tragic character. And I go through most of my life thinking of him as just that. Tut, tut you know? But really somehow I'll be linked - you know, not by steel, but by a shoestring- to this particular pathetic tragic character. It's not what I wanted and it's HARDLY going to be at the forefront of my thoughts, actions, life -- but if you want to know the REALITY, that's what it is. That's what I'm saying. I'll shake my head and condescend about him forever, but we lived togehter, he built the shelves, cooked more than I did, talked to me for probably eight thousand hours clocked -- who knows? I won't go to visit him. But I'll probably always give him a call back even if I wince when I see he's called at first. We may endlessly have the same conversation about that blizzard. He seems well prepared for that.

So that's the story about the past. Sorry it wasn't terribly narrative. the narrative was basically "I was desperately tired. I talked to my ex. I felt more than one thing at once."

music review

Arcade Fire is so good. I am 4 years behind on that observation and I still have only rocked their 2nd album.

H & G have "Kings of Leon" on their ipods and I got a CD of theirs too - also really really good.

I'm into rock now - yay. Hip hop isn't going anywhere new. I'm even over mash-up (finally.) (I'm not giving up hip hop or something though. Don't get me wrong.)

So I just need to hear Backyard Tire Fire some more too. :)

Okay, one new york fucking observation:

What happens is you wind up feeling so close to strangers for brief fleeting moments and this kind of affects the whole quality, I mean sense, of your life.

Like how I was annoyed about people calling me "sweetheart" I have to caveat that I meant that about men in bars, not about the bagel guy and the magazine store friend and the UPS man that call me "sweetie." All these fellows are such fantastic friends. :)

And also feeling very close to yourself in maybe less brief, less fleeting moments. I mean, I am always thinking to myself, except when I'm asleep or rocking out or filing (and even sometimes while filing.) On my smoke break, I saw a little sparrow that might have been hurt. I don't know what it is about a hurt little bird. Maybe he was just wet and molting. I so wanted to pick him up and bring him to an arboritum, but I don't want Avian Flu and I don't know an arboritum although I do have a plant.

XO
Alexis

When I post a lot

I feel really self-conscious.

I'm so sarcastic and complain-y. Dumb blog. I'll stop for a while now becasue I feel sheepish about these dramtic sounding sarcastic ish knowing-acting posts.

But movie review:

Michael Clayton: Pretty good!

Impromptu: oh the best the best. I hope I can get some kind of Georges Sand biography at the library before the weekend.

XO
Alexis

Nothing will ever make us notice til we're on fire

What does it feel like?

It feels like when you step outside into the air from the doors of Fort Lauderdale airport. Balmy.


And?

And the ice skating rink has opened in Rockefeller Center.

So?

So I walked by and saw the people spinning and skating in their t shirts and shorts and I heard this text in my ears read aloud by Jeremy Irons : "As the end approached, people's behavior remained largely unchanged. They continued their rituals, and found thht they cared about the rituals much more than the seasons the rituals may have been believed to commemorate."

Yeah, so, it's not a big deal but it is a little freaky when you see it. It's all wrong like a rose that smells like a pickle or something.

XO

I was

going to write about solitude, but Meglet called a minute ago and noted the lovely day and we should go the park or a movie... and that makes a solitude post kind of moot. I'll still write about it.

Lots of people expect you to be living a whirlwind life in New York cus you're young and free. They don't quite understand a couple things 1) how you live alone in Astoria and 2) It's not as if we don't live the in the flakiest age of time immemorial and c'mon would New York of all places be exempt from that? no.

It's a little hard for me -- not a lot hard - and I'm really glad that this is one of my bigger problems right now 'cuz it's not a big deal by any means -- but it's a little hard for me because I'm not very flaky. I don't know if it's because I'm lame or something, but I generally go where I said I'd go or call and apologize. And it's only with some effort that I'm so busy that I'm having to cancel a lot. I'm not trying to complain although clearly that's what I'm doing. But I need to specify a little I think: my one friend is a super-pro free-lance writer. She can flake on me forever and I'll never be annoyed. But really she's not flaky -- she's on that shit - she cancels a day in advance always actually .. so nevermind. Just wanted to clarify that cancelling is great by me. Defnitely beats the texting, then dropping off that is so prevalent.

I also actually like being alone. Also, for those who don't know how to be alone (because that sounds rough - I probably really couldn't, say, in college) it helps when you expect it a little I think. I realized on friday that I had no set plans with anyone this weekend so eventhough I sent out a little "i'm painting panels all day - drop by" texts to everyone I have in my phone in Astoria yesterday morning, i would have been shocked if anyone came over.

In the evening, I wanted to go dancing and expected to meet up with some crazy Texans - a law school girlfriend of A's and friends. They texted that they were still watching Spamalot. They'd call when it got out. I called friend w/ benefits who had, I suppose, invited me to a brooklyn party in the morning when I still thought if anything I'd be out with the Texans. He said he'd call later and most certainly didn't. (I didn't expect him to -- he was on his way to a party in Fort Greene.) I showered and got dressed. L. called from florida and told me he's doing good there - art gallery - small apartment with a pool. And that he fantasizes about me and loves my laugh. Okay. No one currently in New York called. It was eleven. Fuck it i watched the Ali G show. took a benedryll. Slept beautiful.

Do I have a point? probably not. I was thinking a little of my date with M. too -- he recommended I do this thing called "The Artists Way" which involves free writing at least 3 pages the second you wake up for several weeks. he said I'd "know myself better than I could imagine."

It's very possible that I should be free writing three pages as soon as I wake up every morning. But could the time I spend alone not be helping with that as much as writing every morning?

My point is I know myself well I think. I know it's not a good idea for me to try to drill the panels to the wall by myself. I know that that will be more fun even with a hired handyman than it will be by myself.

I was going to list more things I know about myself and fascinate my readers even MORE if that's possible, but I have to get going to the park now to meet Megastar. What a dumb post this is!

blah blah blah concrete jungle

yeah blah blah blah, I need to wear heels to cut the figure I mean to; the streets are made of concrete; I have to cover 13 of em or something to get from home to train, train to work; I'm AMAZING at it.

I always get a seat on the train now which is obviously the greatest thing that can possibly happen.

I've been thinking a lot about not staying in New York every year of the rest of my life. I want a little wintry cabin with three wood burning stoves. And classical music. I think I'll need a man there too. Dog optional. And if I have a baby, I'm gonna put it on a mattress with child-safe toys under a window.

Oh, fantasy fantasy. You can't blame me.. being that I'm back to reporting to a supply closet every day.

XO Alexis

la la back to work

Things I'm excited about.

* Play about boys. Not trying to be deep. Just having fun. It's fun.
* Friend w/ benefits living for now in real nice house in Morristown. Got out of dodge yesterday. It was NICE to do!
* Fall
* Fall
* Fall
* Holiday West Elm catalog. I'm gonna get a FEW mirror plated furniture items. Hot.
* Fall. Smokin weed in fall. NJ transit in fall.

love
Alexis

Oh my God, when you write it out like that, it's all so completely obvious. Me and the musicians. That's gonna be the title of my memoirs. Thanks notherapycomputer.

We'll get back to Bazaar

Tomorrow morning maybe.

Now I am going to catalogue what brings me to waiting by the phone (dammit), having the moment when you realize, "no." :( :(
:(

* I meet T. and M. at a reading of T.'s play. M. is really good and very very beautiful. T. asks me out.
* T. and I go out a couple times. Sex not good tho. :( T. goes to England for the year. I ask him to help me get M. to be in my play reading.
* M. does the reading. Is freakin awesome. Then he runs off to the club where he alternately MCs with a hip hop group/ works the door. I go there after. leave. Contrive a text that says sorry i left early but let me know what he's up to.
* He does indeed send lots of texts about when he's playing.
* 1 time I even go there by myself a night he's working the door.
* After the GRE, I meet up with him, bounce around alphabet city. Get a kiss in the cab, accuse "what are you embarrassed of me? You won't kiss me in front of people?" He texts at 2:45 to see if I'm awake. I am not.
* But he calls the next day and we agree to go on what turns into an outstanding date. "Sorry about the insecure/accusatory after that kiss..." "M: "Insecure? No! I like it - be agressive be be agressive!" He's got to run after dinner though - work! So it's two kisses and a growl/bite to my neck and he's off.
* He wants to come over at around 1:45. Ummmm.. okay then... altright yeah, okay.
* But are you leaving soon?
* "band playing anutha fuckin set? Lookin late"
* yeah, I'm already asleep. :(
* So.... finally calls at, uh, 10:00 pm ish the next day... so I stop by his club okay, I am already in Manhattan so.... I hang out at the door. It's all nice. other people there drugging me, talking to me, talking to me, talking to me.... but at 1:00 ish I just wanna go home. some finger intertwining with M. outside. Peck on the lips as i'm going. "It could have worked yesterday. that would have been..." Me: "yeah, but i was asleep." M: "yeah." He'll call tomorrow afternoon...
* ...which is today. It's now 5:24pm. He'll be playing a show tonight... have to be there at, I dunno, 10:30... so what's going on here. If he calls, I'll take it and maybe have to hear something deflectory and have no response. Or the phone is seconds from ringing and he'll be here in a reasonable amount of time. no harm no foul. or he doesn't call today and I have to erase him from my phone.

Life's tough hunh. Continue waiting in my castle, and, ugh, working on myself. Sweet notherapycomputer, what's the status? Are we making any progress here?

XOXOX
Alexis

Page by page

Project to avoid the main project with:

(Most of you know the main project. I plan to go to the museum of television and radio tomorrow morning to start research -- hopefully they have what I need... I'm having a very hard time getting started.)

Page by page of Harper's bazaar October 2007:

Cover:
Here we have Mary Kate Olsen looking grand. A little duck-y in the mouth but that's just her face. Nothing too ridiculous here. They penciled in her eyebrows which looks good in the picture and probably looked garish in real. The only very silly thing is the banner in the upper right corner that says "SHOPPING SPECIAL." Harper's Bazaar has never once run an issue that was not a shopping special. They just did it to have a little gold something in the corner. Worked on me!

page 1/ 2:
A fold out ad for Banana Republic-- 3 of 4 ads in keeping with their current "your clothes can match these 'contemporary' paintings that we created for this photo shoot to match our clothes!" motif. STUPID dress with big dots on it on woman sitting in a gallery in pfront of a painting of black and white dots. DIY people! 2 more pictures like that. In one, the lady's green handbag matches some colored dots behind her on a canvas and the gallery "program" sticking out of the purse. Next one, boring-ass suit that looks like it came from Strawbeery on same gazelle-like woman who looks like she spent two and half hours on her hair and make-up even though her hair's short walking past a painting made of grey lines. Her gallery program has the same "art on it."

Page 3 & 4
Gucci. So far Gucci is winning. This woman looking at me looks like she's going to kill me, but right before she does she's going to burst into tears and drop her weapon because she's pretty much too pretty and weak for this killing gig. She's in front of some art, but god knows it's not dots, and it's the last thing on her mind. Gucci - dangerous, yeah baby.

Page 5 & 6
Estee Lauder "Resilience Lift Extreme." Elizabeth Hurley's head. What is doing the lifting on ms hurley? A whole lot of photoshop. Why wear make-up when you don't have skin? Elizabeth hurley is just blended pixels. no skin at all.

Page 7 & 8
It is getting good. This is what you pay 4 bucks for. Dior is having its models do this new pose I love where the model has food poisoning so she has sucked her stomach back behind her hips and has rolled her shoulders forward so that she can retch really soon!! But she doesn't look unhappy -- we have a mona lisa face on this person about to puke her guts out. the olive green dress on the left doesn't do anything for me. The bright pink satin gown is AMAZING although I really can't think of any event in the entire world it could be worn to. You wear it when you are about to be sick and it's time for the photo shoot!

Page 9 & 10
This is great. On the left, the girl is pulling up her shift dress with both hands because it doesn't fit - she can't fill it out. She's trying to make the killing face but she looks like as soon as you say "What's that face about" she'll just turn away because she's not that smart and can't answer to confrontation. On the right she's in a coat/dress, which is nice, wearing a shit ton of black makeup on her eyes (still) She's trying out a new face. It's a face that goes with no human impulse or emotion. She's a confusing girl and maybe she should be committed.

More soon!

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OH MY GOD STOP CALLING ME SWEETHEART STOP CALLING ME SWEETHEART STOP CALLING ME SWEETHEART.

okay

I have to kill 10 minutes. before toiling the rest of the day.

So Yom kippur:

I don't like how much it's asking God, "Father" for forgiveness. I don't want to equate God whatever it is so much with a father. Fathers are fallible and this one's supposed to be infallible - I guess - I mean that's what they keep saying during the service. But, I'd be much more able to go along with this "father" thing if he were a fallible father because all sorts of bad things happen - if it's a father making decisions then he's making some bad ones. I said it!

But right - I'm telling my father I've been very bad and I'm sorry so sorry or I'll die this year. Just seems perverse.

Meanwhile, as I'm thinking these thoughts, I'm obviously not doing a very good job of atoning.

Meanwhile I am the worst ever at fasting. I basically need to nap so that time will pass and when I wake up I can eat.

So, I have no spiritual life. I cannot fast and atone. I'm awful at it.

But you slip into this weird belief middle-ground I think. The whole time you're fuctioning bi-level : 1) I'm-hungry-and-don't-buy-this level and 2) But-if-youre-listening-God-hear-me-iterate-these-things-you-commanded-be-iterated-and-please-dont-kill-me-and-aslo-I-don't-buy-this level.

-A

Dating site for Heebies
May make you feel skeevy

Guy says he swims
you think, "yay, masculine..."

But when you meet him he's whiny
head not far from his heiney

He misrepresented his height
but why start a fight?

I don't meen to complain to ya
But raging megolomania!

Please don't misinterpret.
I wasn't at all hurt.

I knew I didn't sweat him
Just didn't want to upset him.

So I didn't mention
his glaring self obsession

Not a question about me
Onward! with his wants and needs

But when he wanted to make me a bloody mary in his special style
I thought fine; this will pass a little while...

Then he pushed me against his counter!
And I said I think this a little fast!
but, darlings, he still tried to mount her!
The man was a toal ass!

couplets can't to justice
To the level of fucked up ness.

He kept saying how he was once a "club kid"
I wanted to upchuck.

I'll try to do really finish this good later. This is coming along only in spurts. :)

XO

let me try rhyming

Dating site for Heebies
May make you feel skeevy

Guy says he swims
you think, "yay, masculine..."

But when you meet him he's whiny
head not far from his heiney
he misrepresented his height
but why start a fight?

what rhymes with megolomania?

Oh readers I cannot even tell you. Let's get a drink sometime and I will.



And yom kippur... later... later... promise.

Many thoughts

Yom Kippur.

This is a placeholder.

I have many thoughts on Yom Kippur. give them to you soon. :)

A

The reading

was so great.

Actors are amazing!

The best part though was the friends from work and friends from forever and friends from other work who really liked it and they meant it!

So, I'm very happy. The critiquing session after went on till I was bored and my wonderful actors were some of them angry at the more critical types. Next time I have a reading, I'm going to suggest saving the critique for the next workshop and just starting up the party after the "End Play" line is read.

It was some of the most fun I've ever had though. Just a really great feeling.

love
Alexis

News from the world

Businessmen expect very little from life.

elevator - me and two busniess men - one is asking the other why he likes 80s music out. They kind of stop talking b/c I'm there. I'm like, "Why don't you like to hear 80's music out?" One gives some reason. I make an observation about popular 80s music being pretty much dance music by nature though. We exit and Businessman A remarks, "Wow, that's a lot more than I expected from the elevator."

Sort of sad don't you think. And me, expecting that much if not much much more from everything. And which one is sad. And does it depend if you're a businessman?

XO
A

Musings 'cause I don't know what to do here right now

On the elevator - guy with loafers I really liked! : "I don't think in Monday, Tuesday... anymore. It's just a five day nightmare, starting now."

Me, in my head : "Let's get married"

My place is really great to live in if I haven't mentioned (I think I haven't and that's pretty unbelievable) - different rooms for different functions. Quite a thrill. I do, however, wish that man with great loafers would marry me and hang out there with me, saying things like that about work and enjoying my mac and cheese stylings!

Other than that, no news is good news. Got a cute black knit jumper for the reading. Finally finally did the laundry and am enjoying fresh underwear even as I type right now. Might be a little leaking from the bathroom sink that I'll take care of... tomorrow... ?

List:
Reasons fall is awesome:

1) Said it before and don't mind saying again : Fall is the only time you you can actually feel your memories. <--- hasn't acutally happened for me yet this year, but it's also only been fall for three days, if that.

2) In the fall, makeup isn't a disgusting goo layer for your face like in the summer. So therefore you start seeing women with dark brown skin whose lipstick is sparkly lavendar to match their sweaters. I am so impressed.

3) Like 2 - the clothes - they rule. So much more you can do when you need to put on more of them.

4) You shouldn't need more reasons than this.

Last thing on my mind - lots of people have had this thing where they end a relationship because the person in question is depressed. It's happening now to lots of women graduate students who wnat to have babies. I heard it from a reliable source.

XOXOXO
Alexis

okay okay okay so

my play is titled "I'm leaving: A love story"

But it SHOULD be called "What it's like if you're crazy like me."

Now couldn't anybody write a play called that? I feel funny inviting people to mine - but if they write theirs, I'll go to that.

In other news, ummm... I have a drinking problem but whatever 'cus it's not a problem. nice, hunh? I keep forgetting to eat dinner and drinking beer instead. bad or good? There's no one to judge but me. And I say it's fine.

What else? work is boring.

Sorry this post is a wash. All I can really think about is leaving work and going home and maybe doing things around the house I could.... maybe not.

I think i will hang the shower curtain. I wish I had pot.

love
Alexis

So so freaked out

last week, I "finished" my play. But here's the thing... inadequate!!!! (and still not actually full=length -- merely 69 pages) Nonetheless, I have my two lead girls cast (for the reading -- all this trauma to my system is for just a reading. It's amazing people actually get plays STAGED.) They'll pull it off GREAT.

Then, the playwrights group director wanted me to change the date.

Then I got CRAZY here at the office. I had to lie on the floor.

Then - four insane sounding emails later - I got my date back. Good. And I got another part cast.

What's going on is, I'm casting a lot of the poorly drawn characters now. And I feel ashamed sending these stranger-actors the script. First time creative things are like a horrible horrible hell. Because I have no way of knowing if what I'm sending these people is actually blatantly terrible work. I tell, you, I feel really shaky right now and it's only going to get worse.

And I still don't have my lead male locked down, or a lot of other parts.

Thank God the actors I have are so talented. That's the island in a storm of fear --HURRICANE of fear, here.

love
Alexis

things

Tomorrow is writing night: play moving in direction of knives, sleeping outside, sex. Mustn't forget these important places to go in rest of 2nd act.

Today, I took myself to the library to write after work. I'm completely out of $ til payday thanks to massive security deposit. I'm getting around on the subway with change for single ride cards and should make it through the next two days close to fed as such. I got in an hour of writing, which was about as much as I was good for, before I got on the train to come home and realized my housekeys were in my pants in my "office" at work (i musn't wear jeans in the supply room where I work - recently chastised) - which I didn't have access to since I forgot my swipe-y thing. Got the keys with a security escort. Ate Hilal on a treeless bench area on 50th and sixth.

Fascinating isn't it?

J date an intersting scene you are welcome to discuss with me on the phone.

why can't I sleep until 1 am. Everyting will change in my new apartment.

My houseguest didn't make her bed or take out the trash - when it had food in it -- while I was gone, and I was up for hours my first night back listening to a mouse literally nose-dive into the garbage pail repeatedly. While I screamed. Until I stood on a chair, got a broom and threw the trast into the hall without having my feet in the area.

aiugh.

love
A

Farley says to post

I broke him down - tell tale heart style - posting my last and then posting no more. What wins the cold war? - detente - not aggression wins the cold war.

I just got back from a bridal shower weekend that was a blast. I'm looking forward to the wedding big time and my friend the bride to be is a one of a kind wonderful friend - so fun to celebrate. She's nearly a doctor. Sick, no?

What to talk about-- how frightened I am of airplanes - who cares. More interstingly, perhaps, there's how often I cry on airplanes -- not hard crying now; I'm not a freak-- But anyway, there seem to be plenty of people who get to 32000 feet (or whatever) and do not feel like they're at the funeral of existence itself. Enh, they can have it their way. I consistently take my air-travel hours to accept death.

Ta-da - this is my post. more soon.

Eff you fuckin suck. Your blog is in the lame bin at the blog store. Someone even asked me the other day if I keep a lame ass stupid blog and I said I did actually but then I described it and then they said oh - not blogs like that - yours is Awesome. And I said, yeah but take a look at this one, and I showed them yours and they said "that's just what I'm talking about. These people make me sick; i mean I'm puking." That person was former Secretary of State Madeline Albright.

Happy happy. Absolutely lovely barbeque last night w my friend M. French people. Who knew i could like French people so much! American Irish catholic new wife of Frenchman also outstanding.

Beofre the wonderful bbq of which I best recall the bottle after bottle of really good wine, M and I were talking as we walked and bussed there --- she has separated from her husband - the one whom she followed to to the USA- I said "good." She didn't know about that. But we attempted commiseration about "dating" so to speak. She is committed to falling in love as soon as she falls in love and going for it whole hog. This is the French way. I asked, "So is it like the movies? You people are always pushing eachother up against walls - in love- over there?" The answer is yes. If there's one thing M. is always amazed about in American women, it's the regulation of the dating ritual, the attempt to control our destinies, the Appolonian approach we take to what is obviously a deluge. Meanwhile, she'is intrgued by our idea that you "have to get to know someone". I also think that won't change her and I realy really like her. The french are stubborn. And when they agree they sound like they're arguing. This is an easy affectation to pick up and I love it.

-A

Quiz - what is cool?

At a party:
A) Drinking
B) Drinking Moderately
C) Not Drinking

If Drunk:
A) Telling your secrets
B) Asking other people about their secrets
C) Hiding
D) Making fun of people
E) Fighting
F) Punching that guy who's too drunk and ruining things in the face
G) Not punching that guy who's too drunk and ruining things in the face

When Dressing:
A) 80's baby
B) Glam Rock baby
C) Plenty of Black baby
D) Plenty of Pink baby (baby pink)
E) Plenty of Pink baby (hot pink)
F) That touch of thug baby
G) That touch of mink baby
H) Just make sure the hair is in some condidtion other than would be great for scrubbing the floor baby
I) As many converstion piece items as possible baby
J) Nothing you wear should be a conversation piece baby
K) You know, like, American Eagle, maybe canvas shorts, and a v-neck with a pattern perhaps, and a nondescript bag but maybe it's got some embroidery, baby.
L) I'm so cool I even think option "K" is cool, baby.

When embarassed:
A) Never happens
B) Everyone knows; I can't help showing it
C) No one knows when I'm embarassed or not

ANSWER: Hey we're all different. Cool is a really ambiguous thing. Oh, but at a party, A is cooler. And when drinking, B makes others uncomfortable although is not necessarily uncool. Depending what you did with "When dressing."

God I love this blog

The best part is how people don't know about it.

I'm in a great mood. It's the day after playwriting hangover. The cute guy in that class finally went for a beer w/ me and the instructor. This had the (wonderful! highly recommended!) effect of making me feel like I'm not too frickin aggressive for people which, you know, I've never found fair (not that anything's ever fair) but I mean I'm really not that aggressive at all in my opinion so my A#1 pet peeve has always been when guys seem in any way scared of me. There is nothing scary about me at all. I get pretty upset b/c the closest thing I can see to me being scary is me being opinionated and just leave it to men to be scared of that. R they kidding?

Anyway, point though is, I can scratch this guy off the list of guys who don't want to drink a beer with me just because I never shut up. Jeez. :) Anyway, right, point is, good mood - validation from random literate cute boy - not too high voltage for. Oh and I realized the reason I resent him is because he's got money - he doesn't have to work!!!!!! So he's always bringing in good plays for us to read every week (often featuring a histrionic mess of a female character) and add to that the seeming a little scared to get a beer and I was all "I resent that!" But wait --it's all clear enough. He's just rich. It's all very simple.

I want to write more in the spirit of always writing when I have a hangover at work, but I've got nothing to say. Or nothing appropriate to say. But I can talk about dick with my office-mate (heart her) so I won't push that on you.

I need to clean my apartment. Last night I broke a glass playing with my multi-purpose speakers playing Amy Winehouse and drinking beer after beer after beer after I drank the one beer w dude and instuctor -- 2 beers after that w instructior -- forgot to eat anything - went home and drank more played with speakers broke glass and thought -- hmmm.. there goes a glass.. shattered... I'm not going to do anything about that... damn I'm sexy.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
X
O
X
Alexis

Why does it have to be like this?

Just when I'm ready to just quit my job, all "what have you done for me lately?" (besides lead me into depression and anxiety and a truly terrible attitude and questions like, "why was I ever even born?") I'm also moving and can't quit.

You can't imagine how many clerical tasks I have before me. My boss pretends she's going to talk to me and never ever does. The girl who is on her maternity leave that I replaced for said leave is apparently not returning til NOVEMEBEr although all the bosses have been telling me August. I'm onto their lie and try to confront but no one will talk to me.

There is so much i want to do. So much. I'm so ready for my real life to start - in the apartment with the rooms - with the things i want to write and the places I want to go. And the furniture I want to haul from dixsparate places to my new one... the flatscreen TV, the desk, the bookshelves, the leather couch, the kitchen table... oh it goes on and on and what a joy it will be but I just can't get there and I don't want to create one more spreadsheet or extract emails from one more spreadsheet or go on living if I have to continue doing this crap.

I just need this job to end. I'm going to call out tomorrow. This is the best solution I can come up with.

XO
Alexis

Actually, it turns out it's a little too catchy

Rings in your head when you're trying to fall asleep.

I think I am depressed a little. :(

E and I both too into sleeping, and over sleeping. I am also too into Sopranos. Which I thank him all the time for not being angry at me for. But maybe I think he should be. But the soparnos is my favorite thing in the entire world ever. So I thank him for not trying to stop me. but it seems not good that both of us are on the same page about taking a break from all things and just watching Sopranos and over air-conditioning and dreaming lovely dreams. In the morning we wake up and I'm angry, all "We're both depressed. This is NO GOOD."

I am moving!!!!!! I will get a leather couch and a flatscreen TV and I think cable and a desk.

love
Alexis

Music Review - Amy Winehouse

I understand how you might not be so taken with Amy Winehouse as me- say your thing isn't melody as much as mine. But she's so wonderful. I think the reason is sure, the songs are written for the perfect range for a woman never to be stretching and Motown was always the best anyway, but so many singers - pop singers - could have made it sound like no big deal - a gimmick. But Amy Winehouse has feelings and creativity in addition to her really rich voice (and her hot look - who's lying.) She reminds me that eventhough everything's so technology and less contact and more people and sad ecomomics (like always) everyone still loves an amazing singer singing something close to jazz. I like it when things are like the fifties. Less conservative than now I think sometimes (not that it's not good about the end of segregation - just overall conservatism - I digress.) Oh, does anyone know if she writes her own songs?

Exhaustion

Sucks. Last night, friday night, E came over, but I'd fallen asleep and couldn't wake up and sent him home. Not very nice. I was so tired -- he was saying words and i was like, "I can't listen to you talk now!' Work is terrible. Endless and as I said before exremely mundae.

I need sleep though. Such a shame because this means I'm either working, getting over work, or finally getting some sleep. Very bad moods like scattered T stroms.

My dreams were amazing when I finally slept. At the end of the big one, I had a new bedroom to put my stuff into. (In reality I'm supposed to go see my new place today so that's not too amazing) I was talking to the guy who had the place before and a girl from work was there. He said he wanted more dolls, maybe he'd take some of mine off my hands (since the room was a little small to fit all my stuff.) Mary from work said, "Well here: take Skinny Lizzy." I said "Nooooooooo!" ran down to the basement where E. was hanging out with this girl he'd spent the weekend with. (I'd been gone --- becoming an actress or something?) I was wearing one sneaker one sock and nothing else. I started yellng - oh my God you're fucking her -blah blah blah blah - and now I'm supposed to give away Skinny Lizzy. Then I ran upstairs again. This is kind of how i've been acting anyway :) so it's not a strange dream but it was excitingly active. And the new locations were cool. (the new big stange house-- in Montana) I was in a writing school too. And there was this amazing book. Then I pulled stringand it turned into a different kind of book.

Now I'm awake. Don't want to work on play though I really must. maybe in a little while. Very impressive woman talking about how to spread Democracy effectively on channel thirteen. Markets.

I need the girl whose job I'm doing to come back. And I need to move to my new apartment. One more month. I hate this though -- the times when you're biding til contentment. Life's not that long I like to throw away a month. But I guess it's okay. could be worse!!!

I'm supposed to go to a party in Princeton tonight. the host always calls me an "underacheiver" which is really annoying. And whenever we talk at length he at some point says "Mybe you're problem is..." I don't like that sentence starter.

This woman wrote a really great book, Her public telelvision interviewer said he never read such a complicated high-concept book that was so easy to read and he really must commend her.

Apparently the thing I wasw supposed to blog about before was this conclusion E ande I came to aout living in New York which had something to do with you have to "eat shit and like it." If I rememebr what was so brilliant about this I'll blog about it.

XO

Movie Review

Hairspray - would have been wonderful. John Travolta - awful.

XO

True or False: Dead people are determining all we do

The thought process was this: On Friday I was thinking about an absent person a lot. Don't know why. Just indulging some heavy thinking about. Today I got a text that someone I know half a world away passed said person in the street. Maybe the energies are real. I have already concluded that the energies-between-people are just coincidence actually. But if they're not, and maybe they're not, then, when you die, is that your last energy send-out to the living? And how long can it last? True or false: I am magical. When I breathe my last breath, so too my magic.

I am DEPRESSED at work today. It's raining so hard. My job is SO mundane. It's all I can do just to stay put here, much less re-do all these letters for the Fund VII welcome kits.

My play is coming along. The second act gets crazy, unmoored - maybe that's okay. ????? Reading date is Thursday September 20th 7:00 pm. 39th and 5th. I was going to finish it at work today but sent myself the wrong draft. Terrifying but I'm sure it's on my PC at home. pretty sure. So finish it tonight. It's the only thing I want to do right now, bt I guess I'll attend to the welcome kit letters... but I am SO disinclined. Disinclination to work will be my ruin. I so so totally want to nest in my bed with E and watch the rain fall, do laundry, never work again!

XO
Alexis

things I said i'd blog about - I don't remember

In the last few weeks, I've said "I'll blog about it" about a couple things. I don't remember what the first one was. The second one is that Farley left for his MFA program at Berkely. I think I only said that though because it's a neater thing to say than goodbye. So it's kind of a dead end for a blog post- I really have no conflict of feeling about it. It's great he's going there. It will be wonderful. He'll meet cool people everywhere and make outstanding art and hopefully come home for several holidays. I have decided I have to limit my visits to Pennington anyway. On Sunday, after my mom regaled me with a story about how much the high school sucks and I asked her why she thinks this will suprise me when she tells me about it, she confronted me saying I have a strain of hostility against her and, eventhough I think I made some really well articulated and unemotional points about how her feeling that is more likely a projection of what she feels towards me, which she's loathe to identify, I still felt upset and thought that there's a good reason most people visit their homes only rarely.

Love the kids and they don't make me feel bad at all but hopefully they'll come visit me in my new apartment - she of the several rooms - come September first. That's going to be so so so so so so great. There are four rooms in the arpatment I'll be moving to everyone. I plan to accomplish great things when I have a desk space.

What were the other blog things? Probably something from the elevaor and something about dreams. For the elevator today 40% of people won't use sick days as vacation days because "that's dishonest." If that statistic is for real then 40% of people are people I strongly condescend to because they don't differentiate between honesty between people and honesty of the individual towards a corporation and that's some conservative stupid bullshit. It's OKAY to lie to the man. Lying to the man is more honest. I hate old values. I love new values.

About dreams - the best part I think is how one of the parts of your brain that is not doing anything while your sleeping is the part that makes things mutually exclusive. I had this one where I was in both the midwest AND Israel - no problem there- talking to President Harding AND he was my step-dad's relative - still no problem with a child who was my daughter AND my sister and none of this stopped a rollicking narrative of hi-jinks and deeply felt epiphany. The logic we learn is the killing process of best experience. Everyone's heard of lobotomies but I think they should get more advanced about which parts of the brain they can poke to death / extract.

Not as inspired as i should be to post but it'd been a while and I kept talking about this.

If E reads this maybe he can remind me what else I said needed blogging.

XO
A

I think I'll do one of those inventory-type posts today. Kungfuramone is the only one reading anyway... So I think the whole blogging phenomenon was somewhat that he already had one and didn't need to be emailing me info he'd already blogged so ta-da; the world is privy to what we would have emailed. KFR has made claims that if I had a counter I'd just be amazed how many people are reading thhis, but I think he's wrong.

But apperently, Won't get Therapy. Will Talk to computer. is the first thing that pops up if you search for "Look Any Our Car." And once someone did and then we went out and he told me. The trick there is Margaret.

Speaking of, I got spam e-mailed today and it was incredible. 2 from the same guy. Both of them ended "a gun goes rooty-toot-toot." The guy was, like, a way better creative writer than me. The world is over.

So the inventory:
* headache
* actually hangover -- it's of the I feel so happy after playwriting workshop that I drink a few beers before bed variety, so I think that's fine.
* I am more inclined to write when I have a little hangover -- it's a real trend around here at Won't get therapy.
* This guy on the subway was a dad! He was taking his little boy where I could hear him talking and he said "Then I'll be back in just a few hours." Then he squatted next to his son and his son lovingly touched his face and played with his sunglasses with very inquisitive eyes. The dad said "Oh, twelve. Probably about twelve. So what time is it now? So in five hours. That's around five hours from now" and the kid was like okay, I'll just trust you on that information there, Dad-o and obviously children are the meaning of life. And also I think maybe one wants to recreate that child trust later with adults but then you're some kind of retard who never grew up and that's sad. Sometimes when I love people I still want to ask them how many hours til they come back. I guess the caveat is it's nice to be able to get around on your own and not be three feet shorter than everyone. But I think it hardly cancels out STROLLER. Stroller so cool.
* Places and feelings. Feelings and places. Empathy. The Deli b4 work - a little off today-- those guys are good. Honestly they are extermely efficient about egg sandwiches. things a little off today. Nobody was cool - not the patrons I mean. Usually everyone's cool 'cuz those egg sandwich guys are so good and I think they should get scholarships to MIT or something because I get all face-flushed and shit sometimes when I'm trying to do 10 things at once and people want their orders yesterday. Today my guy -- the one with the toaster and the spreads and the ultimate wrap-up - not the egg-guy (he's awesome too though) didn't hand dude his english muffin. He would have forgotten had the man not said "the english muffin." Then my guy looked frustrated with himself for a second. I wanted to tell him that he really didn't mess anything up and plus that guy was weird.
* something's fucked in my back
* I want to find a wonderful one bedroom apartment in Astoria this weekend.
* They are moving me out of my office into a supply closet. So, I'm going to work on my writing. Problematically, they're not letting me do nothing in a supply closet liek the old days. I'm still supposed to do something in the supply closet. But if it's just me and my office (closet) mate I can probably get cozy enough to work on my shit. I don't know. I also think I should go to Medical School and then no one can ever call me a slacker.

XOXOXOX
Alexis

The good news is a shift has occured, and far be it from me to deem it either arbitrary or necessary, ordained or coincidental, but they are playing "Borderline" more than ever in the delis, I've noticed.

Not all the lyrics to Borderline are great. But I like:
Try
Try to understand
I'm giving all I can
Cause you've got the best of me

Right?

Yesterday was a big freak out. Such a big freak out that I made a return to the seediest bar in the world for the first time in months. It's a long long story where I want to kill my mother. And SHE'D tell you it's because I'm a spoiled brat who needs to be instructed in some lessons on reality, and I'd tell you it's because she'd tell you that. Anyway, I'm going to see the most incredible penthouse glassed in apartment today w/ E. and can't really afford it, could do if I sucked up an un-frugal year and found a roommate, but anyway my horroscope today is "Trying to do things on too grand a scale could cause you complications." It should have said, "Telling your mother what you want to do is fucking retarded" -- yesterday!!!!

I remember what I wanted to tell you...

My dream! (Oh and cite this quotation! "Nobody is interested in other people's dreams")

I dreamt that I was discussing people who adopt and people who get in vetro in a cavern with my father and his family. I was saying I would adopt if I was one of those people who couldn't conceive, before I'd get invetro. He, my father, got serious and informed me that I was one of those people and that is what I'd have to do because of a medical thing - a "blueprint." He told me "You have no blueprint." He was sorry they had never told me but justified that decision, saying, how could I think there would not be repercussion to the terrible infection which riddled my body two years ago? (in the dream, I had had such a thing.) After the infection, I was lucky to be alive. They didn't want to make me go through any more trauma, so they didn't tell me that my blueprint had been compromised.

Deep no?

XO
Alexis

Obsessed with Rosie O'Donnel

The best person on television! (Carl Bernstein was good on Charlie Rose last night too -- but this is totally tangential.)

You don't have to read my blog. I've had nothing to tell you for ages. You may as well read Rosie's though... and watch her fight with Elizabeth Hasselbeck on youtube.

Obsession with Rosie combined with watching that US vs. John Lennon movie - I'm just happy to hear public people mentioning the truth about things, esp. on a show like The View.

And don't get me started on Barbara walters. I loather that Elizabeth Hasselbeck becuse she's really comfortable getting all obnoxious on Babara Walters. That should go in the DSM IV --- I guess you're more likely to be on the view if you moronically talk back to Barbara Walters than not though.

I have to work now. :( :(

I love Rosie O'Donnel.

XO
Alexis

Deductive and inductive reasoning skills are among the attriubtues tht separate humans from other life forms

And so I give you,

Is it bedbugs?

Why it is probably bed bugs:

1) Bedbug epidimic in New York.
2) The exterminator: "You wake up with bites after sleep in the bed, you have bedbugs. Is bedbugs."
3) Makes sense right?

Why I don't think it's bedbugs EVEN SO:

1) There are so much like mosquito bites. Now you see, these bites aren't a series of small rashlike bumps with traces of blood let. Not at all, and that's what I hear bedbugs leave on you! Nonetheless, It's not possible that it's mosquitos since the only open window is tightly screened.
2) There's a lot of wood around my bed from when I dismantled the loft and put the pieces under the new bed and beside it, between it and the wall. Termites? Do termites bite people?
3) Maybe it's fleas from the vermin and I'm carrying some strange plague.
4) Much like #1: No blood spots on the bed, not visible bugs. Bed bugs, the internet tells me, are not invisible.

So there you have it. The exterminator is apprently going to do exterminator bed bug magic and will hopefully be able to answer my questions such as "Is it maybe termites?" "Is it maybe fleas from the baby rats?"

I should start cleaning. I had more than two bites. More like six. I feel a lot better though. It will be okay. I've been pretty frustro all week so far. My guess is PMS. PMS + unlivable living space = not the nice girl I look like. Cutie asked me out on the subway though. And E. v. kind about my mood. So, you know, I should stop with this whole kill me thing, even if this apartment is beyond me.

XOXOXOXOX
Alexis

Somebody kill me please

Can we all admit this week is weird already?

I'm basically beside myself. I had two new perfect-red-circle bites on myself this morning and I could hear the mouse (E. says there are no mice, only rats and baby rats in NY) last night. I already did a very unattractive rant to E. over our smoke break about how I may as well live in Calcutta, can't live like this, etc.

An exterminator is coming tomorrow evening so tonight I'll do my bleaching the floor and trashcans routine and wake up with more bites and then, maybe, hope and prayer will be answered, rewarded.

Saturday I let a sadistic apartment broker show me places in Manhattan where I could live with a roommate, pay approx. twice as much. He did that broker thing where first he shows the best place, which is unacceptble, then takes you cross town to show you two worse places than that.

I came up with a really cool idea for an engraved silver bangle bracelet though. It's just sterling silver and then it says in cursive "Don't move. Fix here."

Now there's a companion, thinner band, "But could you give me a hand Goddammit." :)

In other news, people are behaving strangely in the subways. For details, comment with your email address and I'll send you a personal email with, your choice,

1) Dude who talks to you even when you're wearing headphones, tell him you'd prefer to listen to music right now, repeat that you'd prefer to listen to music now.
2) Attractive, seemingly getting by pretty well woman with book and practically uncountable number of nervous ticks
3) lady with a migraine

Thirdly, I plan to throw out that drawing board that completely blocks my "kitchen," possibly tonight if my family is unable to promise that someone will come with mini-van to bring it to a child who can use it. THEN, I will buy a toaster and then I can start living on tuna melts. ESPECIALLY if they're aren't hosts of vermmin lining up to eat the microscopic remnants.

Breathe, breathe again. I'll pay you, incidentally to stand at my door with a shotgun and a flashlight while I sleep. To kill the mouse, I mean.

XO
Alexis

poems to things / people

These promise not to be thoughtful enough to really qualify as poems, but it's my blog isn't it?

Lacoste Window Display

Lacoste Window Display,
Who would ever wear that?
I did not think
Preppies
really wanted to look like clowns.
Is it me or you who is so wrong?

People leaving the play and walking the other way

People leaving the play and walking the other way,
I was trying to get you to walk with me
when I said
Oh, I wonder if I can get to my subway this way... I always get lost when I try for 42nd street.
Did you keep walking away and not turn back
because you've all agreed together not to indulge that girl
when she would really like some company?
Maybe you thought I was just talking to myself.
Since I do a lot.


N/W train

N/W train,
I love you. I love you.
Sometimes things happen between us.
There is no subway I will ever love like you.
Did you think I cared about knowing the time in the 2 & 3?
Becasue I don't.
I don't feel much for those at all
It's you, It's you
I often love you best when we're moving out of the tunnel to above the ground
But in truth I love you all the time.

XO
Alexis

Qu'est que c'est?

Today I am finding it interesting that mass murderers aren't administrative assistants.

So that sounds in poor taste, but A) that guy killing all those students is so horrendous it provokes a strange reaction in otherwise uninvolved people -- For example, I can honestly say I think the best word to characterize the media was "gleeful." Whoever I saw on the TV the next morning, Brian Williams I think, was basically beaming and pretending like THAT was an appropriately deferential response to such unbelievable violence and tragedy.

B) I really mean it. It is interesting. These killing spree people don't make any sense whatsoever. There'd actually BE some connection - some cause - if these people, say , had to work jobs where different casts of people treated them like their bitch, even their supposed peers in society, whenever they got the chance to enjoy a second's flash of power. Like Taxi Driver... but Taxi Driver is a movie. In real life these people are simmering with a blind rage that is not dimensional and not at all as related to causality as Travis Bickle's. It's just scary and they're determined to kill lots of people. Their frustration isn't related in any way to the frustration of most people who get mad at their place in the world and simmer at reality. They simmer lightly, comparatively, no matter how much they feel they can't control it. Killing spree people get mad at students for not appreciating their education of all the things to be enraged about! That's how twisted they are. That kid's parents had to be dry cleaners. But HE didn't. His parents didn't kill anyone and think how annoying people must be to the dry cleaner. This kid hadn't even experienced being told to "smile" while fixing someone else's three years fucked-up filing. Or driven a taxi thirty days in a row. So twisted. He'd just met a couple rich kids. I mean, hold you horses, people get so much WORSE than that! I'm not even slightly interested in his psychology. If anyone's reading his multimedia garbage it must be because it's so amazingly appalling that NBC rushed it out into the public. At least I am not interested at all in the rage of someone who should have died a long time ago.

My two cents on all that.

love
Alexis

Update: i slept

Yeah. Much better.

weirdo

I can't sleep and I am apparently in the mood to beat up on myself. I think the reason for this is that i have to go to work and I want to do a lot of other stuff that's not go to work -- not to mention they've taken to scheduling me for events at all hours without asking. Scheduling me? What is this a restaurant? Tomorrow should be fine but i can't get a minute there anymore. I'll get to work on writing at the library in the evening w/ M but first I have to get through the day, which is the primary reason it would be great to get some sleep but instead i want to tell you I'm not as great as some of you think.

1) I bitch at work like crazy. Nice people there - tolerant. Like the floater I called "parochial" in one post. She's a nice girl. I'm the one who's fruit loops. She's a nice girl. i'm "too dynamic" -- it was put to me by someone wise while i was losing it over that other lady last monday.

2) I think about myself so much. It's so boring.

3) The play I'm working on is nonsense.

4) The other thing better. But I have so much work to do.

5) And I have to do the play anyway goddammit... just for process sake. oh yeah and finishing sake.

6) Oh god Demanding. Insane. Boring.

7) Always thinkng about my family and crushes late at night when i should be sleeping. Your family -get over it. Your crushes - don't you wish you'd cut this out of the nightime routine a few to twelve years ago.

8) Not that smart. Some of you think otherwise you've told me. It's just not true. If I were smart, I'd have some kind of career duh. I wouldn't enjoy acting dumb so much. I'm not talking about just when I'm drunk either here. "enjoy acting dumb!" What a front!!!!!!

9) not that empathetic. As i'm trying to explain, I'm a bitch. Who can I blame for making me so judgmental?

10) something about not being able to hang in with someone moment through every moment and memory and feeling. Overheard explosion can kind of be ending for play I thought. believe me, it's not extremely good. Mustn't I be crazy? Maybe falling asleep somewhat now?

Type more flaws? Oh that's good. Not smart I am telling you. Squandred privileges. uncharitable character. Up late thiking about self - retarded.

Maybe I'm purged. I am tired. That's a start.

Self-check

A little mean spirited starting Saturday night... or at least the inkling of concern about it; it abated somewhat Sunday with allergic reaction (ate a pine nut cookie at 9 am!!! Treated with vomiting, benedryl, and sleep) rainstorm laundry nice-night-at-home. But Monday oh shit. I am still making conscious efforts to be more mellow, accept. I got perspective early on this morning since I turned on "Today", and you can't avoid this big massacre thing. I'm not seeking out information really, beyond putting the TV on... and I know that 32 people were killed (I think,) and I glanced in the direction of a newspaper on the train that said something about hearing screaming through the walls. I guess it can be hard to know what mean-spirited really is. I'd prefer not to know about this thing - that's not exactly mean? Well-- things like this are different becasue they provoke a response simply by occuring and being told. It's horrible news. But so is everything about Iraq every day. See? I'm gloomy but not down.

The anger of yesterday was annoying though. It was because an executive assisstant bossed me. It really screws up your day. But it shouldn't and it's really weird trying to talk yourself out of being mad. Watching yourself try to talk yourself out of being mad. I was walking out of the subay to class in Brooklyn and I had to tell myself that I'm not allowed to be mad about being only a little bit tired on my way to something I want to look forward too. Maybe if I hadn't gone to town marking up people's stories really critically I would have enjoyed the feeling of walking to the class. But since I spent the day creating email distribution lists from insane instructions and creating a spreadsheet with the information for 6 months worth of maintenance contracts on many varied properties while reading said stories, I hadn't properly gotten up my enthusiasm for what was working very well in them. I can get evil with a pencil when I feel misused. How mean spirited can you get?

I think it has to do with how focused I'm trying to be about projects and how much effort that is for me. I love being focused and it is something I can do, but it takes away energies from my other aspects... to get new age. Yeah, focus edges near to mania, just a little for me. this is why Eff and I were cracking up about that "Manic Depressive Check-list" in the NYT magazine some months ago. Quite a few of the points seemed like pithy concise descirptions of life. ..."Do you sometimes get very excited and speak notcieably quickly?"

Anyway, I got the last seat on a train and was on time to work. When was the last time?


Happy Tuesday. Merry Spring rain.

XOXOXOXOX
Alexis

Playwrights vs. prose people - I'll tell you who wins

Once upon a time I felt like a crazy person wherever I went. What I really mean is whatever kind of writing workshop I took -- I always felt like the most effusive one, the most compulsively honest one, the most uncensored and the worst about attention seeking, but not on purpose really I swear.

Now I know there's not too much reason to feel this way around people who sit around writing plays.

Or even necessarily on the subway. This morning I entered a practically empty car (why? Because I overslept 3 - count 'em - hours. Uhhh... what can I say about it? It happened. I'm here now.) and this nice girl with a slightly grown out brown bob and sunglasses walked into the pole on her way to her seat and then SAID OUT LOUD something like "That was great." I didn't have to think this one over. I totally smiled back. (last night subway reaction required more thought and cringing when man began vomiting on floor/ sleeping/ vomiting on floor/ sleeping) Obviously we have this thing in common... we're starring a little bit in our show and we comment out loud when the stage/life directions get mussed, differ from the being-written-2-secs-in-advance draft. That's cool. Nice to smile at ya attribute sharer.

I don't think many of the other people in the Monday night prose writing class are like this though. And there's all kinds of people in the world. What i'm saying is, sometimes I look back on a night in a creative group and think "Doh!" I mean, I was just myself... I talked a lot, made a lot of eye contact, was extra friendly to the people who read stories, but still made all my needs improvement comments while they were silenced and listening like I'm Madame L'expert. I wan't FLIRTING with the teacher - I just agreed with him a lot. And my prose isn't ever in the head of a peaceful sensual person, so I'm sorry I didn't really connect with that ethereal nice girl whose story I maybe got too much pleasure from remarking my lost-ness with. I just don't want to tread all over quiet people, but I yearn for my creative outlets and I'm so excited when I get there.

I just hope everyone's having a good time. So you know, I'm not actually actively worrying about this --- I know I go through my day sometimes choosing people to judge and think a stray evil thought about now and then -- it's okay if more peaceful, quieter, unobtrusive people think one or five about me. But I just get a warm feeling inside when I see some other brunette stumble and apologize to her imaginary audience - or read a couple other plays people wrote about women-on-the-verge. You are not alone.

love
A

YAY!

Queer Eye is on NBC in the day!

Queer Eye is my favorite show!

Well I'm completely intimidated

by the other playwrights in the group. 2 people read their work at last night's first class (incidentally, the people I ate dinner with that I just posted about are totally unreltaed to the playwriting people.) So two of them brought 20 pages of their plays to have read and...

their dialogue has rhythm -- it's musical... there's resistance and play... and their plays move somewhere.. move forward...

I am at the moment, too scared to open the play I am working on on my ibook. This is good though. Not being the best. (Am I fooling anyone?)

A

So much coffee

When you drink more than two cups of coffee, you have to post to your blog.

My family loves Farley. It's great. We're so weird. My mom decides to do things. We do them (like have a seder eventhough no one knows why or how)realize it's too weird us just doing it together, and then I'm like, Should I call Farley? and EVERYONE is like, "YES! Do it now. Call him. Tell him it's imperitive. Tell him we'll do whatever he wants." Ben has more than once expressed, "There's nothing good about Pennington... besides Farley." Stephanie: "Actually he really should come. Tell him 'please.'"

Then I'm a jerk and pass out before the end of the movie but sorry Farley! Next time I'll stay up late I swear. I.O.U.

The seder last night was very funny. And annoying. On the phone prior to the event, my mom was very excited about the Haggadahs she'd found for it, cleaning out Grammy's house... "The Kahn Haggadahs" The Kahn Haggadah is a Haggadah for people far too impatient for Passover, i.e. my late Grandfather and his "brilliant tax lawyer" (-- my mom) friend Ed Kahn. The whole thing was probably 12 pages long, written by Ed and formatted as follows:

ED: blah blah blah

*blah blah blah
*blah blah blah

--------------
FOOTNOTE: * indicates that Ed designates a reader.

It skipped major important Passover events. It was basically like Ed explains the egg, Ed explains the parsely, Sing dayenu, Ed explains the matza (kind of!,) drink wine, let's eat. Then, optional, let's sing America the Beautiful.

We all thank God Farley was there because love and thankfulness would not have ruled the night otherwise we suspect. Especially becasue we can't torment my mother as harshly as we would do in front of him, and the food was seriously questionable. I think there's more to Matza ball soup than cans of chicken broth and pre fab matza balls but we're non of us really ones to talk becasue none of us DOES know.

Should be a different scene at ye olde somewhat-more-Jewish-acting house tonight.

I'm going to weigh in with the two best parts though

1) When Tom regaled us with the story of a Swedish video? cartoon? in which some monks are teaching other monks (again, ?) to read books instead of scrolls and the monks (second group) are resistant... scrolls were easier! And Tom was all "No it's funny. I mean it's about computers. It's Swedish. It's from a computer magazine." Tom, the best. And the nerdiest.
2) When we submitted to making a "gravity wall" video with Maddie. It didn't work. It still looked like the floor that she was lying on and not a wall at all. But we got to pelt her with stuff and for once, I think, she was obeyed... usually that's me. I mean I was still bossy and everything....

Anyway, Farley saves the night again. How can he leave Pennington... What will we do on Memorial Day? What will we do 4th of July? If you think we're testy when you're around, you know... you know?

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX love you
Alexis

Gwazdor asked if I ever meditate
count my breaths

My breaths take looong

do you ever
take a nap at 7 on a friday
and wake up at 8
and turn on all the lights
and get back in bed
on your back
look at the ceiling
see a circus seal
or a cartoon airplane
there's smooth patch in the middle where the fixture glows
then craggy all around there
and theres chunky vocal soft noise
it's some kid in the stairwell and the hall
footfalls - they sound different, muffled still but percussive
and I didn't realize that kids made this noise like manatees back and forth til I listened
This would have scared me when I was little
to think about that dirty stairwell
and hear this monstrous continuous non verbal noise
insulated i was then
scared of dirty hallways, and the muffled noise of playing kids
Still insulated, but
I'm not scared now
When i was climbing up here, tired, bare-legged (hose discarded in the trash beneath my desk)
I saw him...
If he were standing he would come to the bottom of my breast
head beneath his arm face against the wall
I knew he was crying
and I said
cheer up
And he looked at me and it wasn't
stupid grown-up
it was
stupid grown up
it was okay
because I said it right
He didn't know
I didn't let on
that
one day he might be my age
lying on his back
still more in his skin than anywhere else
and certainly more in his skin than anyone else
just still him
somewhere like Queens
with his own waking thirst and ceiling to see.

Did I mention...

that I keep getting flowers out of all this "abuse" I'm setting myself up for with this guy who's working-on-it in terms of the crazy?

Seems a relevant detail.

Why am I always so touched by "trying" ... You've got to admit it's compelling.

"DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN. DRAMA QUEEN [etc.]" -Madeline's pajama bottoms

Public V. Private

Yeah-- there has lately been this element that's like -- "you hurt my feelings. Well, that's fine, I'll write about it on my blog." So I guess that's somewhat noteworthy. I would have anyway. Just in a journal. Incidentally I bought a new journal yesterday so this blog might suffer or get ignored for a bit.

A

It sounds fun to be a powerful man

Overheard from my secretary desk: "He wants to play that game where he wants [couldn't hear] a lot of money? Fuck him."

I usually don't like women who say these sorts of things too easily (becasue I wonder how they got there and I envy them) but it sounds like a boatload of fun to talk like this and make money for it when I overhear men doing it. Let's say I'm seventh wave feminist instead of saying I'm sexist.

I can't believe I'm letting this idiot dude make me feel bad. Just another fuckin power play--- as soon as I cared even a grain's worth, it was going to be he wins - I kinda like him but he's just not a nice enough person. Saw it coming for miles. Oh well. It hardly ranks. :)

A

Just listing; you shouldn't pay attention

I do however like the double-meaning for listing... works for today.

Anyway, um

1. something a little strained/pulled in the ball of my right foot.
2. These "stay-ups" pantyhose decided to do everything except that.
3. I spent my whole, usually, acclimating-to-wakefulness commute pulling them up... and once I got to the walking portion this was something like every 15 steps -- I mean trying to find some kind of corner to hike up my skirt and pull my "stay-ups" up against every 15 steps... and if I got to 16 that meant every eye I met was on its way up from my knees where my hose-tops were hanging.
4. Last night I had grand plans, but since I haven't gone home to my house after work in days I was tired and did nothing (neither wrote nor cleaned) but talked to that guy from work. I neither really have to end it nor don't really have to end it. Makes me angry/feel bad as often if not more often than it makes me feel good. He says maybe the reason I get involved with people who yell at me is because I'm really infuriating, "Did you ever think of that Alexis? [smack lips noise] Yeah." God he's annoying. Almost everything he says! I was annoyed from the outset because I'd asked him out for tonight and he misread the email so he thought I was saying NOT to come out w/ me tonight... okay... but I was like... oh who cares... anyway, he was like "What, your father always gave you whatever you wanted and that's why you're like this?" Then when I get super annoyed by these million and one less-than-respectful statements, he says I have no sense of humour about myself. Oh, and if it weren't for my pathetic self-esteem, they wouldn't bother me. What an asshole. What's the point. He sure likes it when I look good and tells me so though... End end end. Time to end. Watch this space for more on this boring story of me and a dude. OH -- and he said If I were less sensitive, I'd be a better blogger.... except he hasn't read the blog. So he just gets me all mixed up. Just when I'm sure I have a point and deserve respect, he turns it around on the head of a point from left field to make sure I know it's really about me being hypersensitive and fucked up.
5. The subway was SO PACKED, I kept falling into the arms of strange men. They were all of them really nice but it still made me angry (not at them; at life) the fourth and fifth time.

Write me today. It's miserable in these hose with runs falling down and the world's least sutiable lover and no evening plans. :( :( :( My shoes are so beautiful people could conceivably die from laying eyes on them. First day out for white leather t-strap 2 inch heels.

XO
A

Diagnosis culture

You already know this.

I met a lot of people this year. Probably about 6 of them told me within some very quick amount of time their diagnosis -- 'I am ADD' 'I am OCD.'

Remember character? No me either but I've heard about it.

Parents, don't get your kids diagnosed! They'll diagnose themselves... but at least it'll be unconfirmed and they'll maybe examine it.

I should be the world's mother. Go to your room.

love
Alexis

You cannot live on caffeine alone

I'm here to tell you.

Obsessions

In list format I assume.

Because God knows I don't want to bore anyone here. But here comes a break where I chat w/ Eff Gwazdor for a sec.

*Eff - A) I tried to post to the Extended Pizza -- what we talked about --- an opening scene to a play I've lost interest in... I could find no way to attach a word document to a blog post. It seemed as if I had to create a website to link to or something. I don't know... meanwhile I was so close to doing it mainly because I saw I was logged on to the Pizza as you, Gwazdor, on my li'l apple... so with that much accomplished already, it seemed worth it. Anyway, now I'm back to square one, so we're gonna need to discuss how it's done if you really think I should get something up there.
B) In this whole private v. public discussion I think we're missing a key reference, at least as it applies to my kinds of qualms and that's a v. important book called "Harriet the Spy." Back in the day there WAS a problem with people discovering how you saw them when you were keeping track for yourself. The finding and reading of journals is a good place to start a discussion of public and private as it relates to me. How do you treat people's words? How close are they to the person? .)

So, obsessions. Really good point from a writing class on character was "you have obsessions... you must give your characters obsessions too."

Some of mine
A) The subway.
B) "Your feet are tired sweetie? I'll carry you..." <--- This today from a guy doing I have no idea what in the driver's seat of a truck outside Radio City. As always, I couldn't understand what he'd said til I was 25 feet past but then I spent the rest of my tiny trek thinking about turning around to say "Actually.. I'm sweating buckets under this jacket, these bags are weighing me down, I just felt a gush of blood rush out of me from within, this coffee cup is burning my fingers and yes, my feet do hurt.. I knew these shoes were the wrong size but I just couldn't find others in a rush this morning and me and the dude I shack down with now and then argued and he said I have massive self-esteem problems and called me a bitch and mimicked me really unflatteringly all becasue I said he didn't know how to handle a woman but that was just becasue I didn't think he'd walk me to a taxi and I don't think he understands how very much he should walk me to a taxi when I've slept at his house. You'll REALLY carry me?" Et Tu, Alexis? In your heart of hearts, do you really want a thug? Maybe. Seriously maybe. I don't care if he screws around. I am fascinated although not obsesssed yet I guess, with the "sweetie, I'll carry you" concept.
C) shallow discourse re: celebrities, designer stuff, feminine maintenence, money, etiquette.
D) Sexual objectification
E) Did I say the subways?

This list functions poorly and was really an excuse to write about B) but I want to keep you all here in my world as effectively as possible you know. That's why the blessed blog anyway isn't it?

So crazy. :) :)
Love you to death
A

Don;t you miss it don't you miss it some of you people just about missed it

Alors, I'm posting mostly because I want to move yesterday's post out of the limelight. I was fatigued. Two guesses. (clue: and my back hurt.)

New York is a place that has a meaning of its own, unlike Pennigton, New Jersey. Like, in Pennington the people who live there don't really know if that's Abbey Rd. like the girl's name Abbie, or if it's A-B like the first two letters of the alphabet. If someone was calling me on my cell coming to rescue me by car from some kind of Christmas day dramatics at the homestead for example, and she said she was lost on Abbey and said it one way or another, I'd still tell her... "See that elementary school up ahead? Turn right." By contrast, if my brother called to tell me he was bleeding out his eyes on Houston Street and pronounced it like the city in Texas, I'd surely go "HOUSE-TON! What's wrong with you!?!?!"

You fair correspondent here has been implicated by others from time to time of some kind of falling prey to something when it comes to New York... that's how the accusers make it sound. And all your fair correspondant said was, "New York is the only city." What?

Overall I guess I just want to say haters are jealous, whatever they say. Not envious. They may not actually want to live here. They may actually like what they've got where they are. In fact I assume they do. But when people "just don't see it" they're right and that makes them oblivious to something to be seen. New york is 8 million people in a relatively small space at a time. So when you're here, you're coexisting with a section of 8 million people all the time. Some of them could mug you, because out of 8 million, some certain number are desperate muggers. Some of them will glare at you because they are having a very frustrating day. Most of the people you see every day are on their way somewhere. And even people who live here and have for years look up in the street when there's something really cool to draw their eye there. But the reason they mostly don't look up is because they have to do something today and they don't want to fall and you've got to know what's happening south of the knees.

Anyway, trying to co-exist is one of the most interesting things people can do, in my view. It's interesting in cases of cohabitation (but let's not forget incredibly stifling sometimes) and it's interesting on the large scale too. New Yorkers are hyper-stimulated. But they're not here for the glamour; this accusation is so silly because who do you think would be the first to notice that it's far from glamorous in the day to day --- you know, duh, the day to day residents. It's hustle that's glamorous to people but you've got to get the chicken and egg thing right there. Scale makes the hustle, the hustle reinforces the scale. Escaping the hustle has cache too... I mean even languishing in New York takes on a little special something becasue New York's outside the window. I didn't make the rules about all this.

XOXOX
Alexis

Oh man

What a weekend. Gwazdor came to town and expanded my mind but not before we filled our bodies with poison. (His word.) We really fiugred out good ways to say some stuff and other times we had to settle for his conclusion, which I think is astute, that most things are so incredibly complicated, esp. most things about communication, that making the best sense you can will get you too no sense, closer, but still so far. There aren't words for everything. Later on the subway, I sat and he stood. I said "I like how much we drank last night. It was fun." He said, "I can't hear you." like he'd never seen me before in his life. Then he said "I don't know you. do you always talk to strangers like that?" It had the desired effect of being embarassing.

What I'm thinking about now is how I sleep when I sleep in Pennington New Jersey. When I sleep in Pennington New Jersey I wake up in the night aware of mortality. I fall back asleep fine and I think that must be why it's called a "comforter." It's something though -- how much more likely I am to feel this back home with my family sleeping in the other rooms than in my studio apartment by myself. What is it about my family in the house that pushes inescapable death so directly to my conscious mind?

I have to go. This is a weird one. Delete later maybe. Busy.

XO
A

I’m happy

Last night I talked on the phone for hours with E. He may or may not get evicted and when he does, his outstandingly f-ed up credit will most likely mean he can’t rent another place on his own. I think the word for what he was doing is “whining”…

Let me break for a second because this is what I think I’ll write about and then post; and I don’t think it’s right to get too deep on the internets about things you know about another in all intimacy. E. knows about le blog. I really like how it’s not a big fucking deal to him actually. He doesn’t read it avidly like the two of you + 1 not using the internet for addiction reasons right now… not that I can tell anyway. And when I pried as to why he wasn’t hanging on my every e-word, he basically said he looked at it and it was cool and he actually had hoped to see more about himself. So anyway, if it provokes a crisis for him, which I think is very unlikely, he asked for it. In the instance where I was all e-exposed, I guess that was a whole other story… because the person doing it was a lunatic…and me, a bastion of right-thinking in a misguided world! So this is all cool.

Anyway, he was whining and I was arguing with him about it like Sally Sunshine and he was trying to prove as usual that his life is miserable ruined and awful and we got to the “Sorry, I can’t do this, it’s too absurd” point and the conversation turned to depression in more general terms, and evolved at least a little to include me in its themes and how it includes me is that depression makes me angry… What I mean is, I get tough-love about it and if that doesn’t work then too bad sayonara basically. For my part this reaction probably has to do with my mom and also however long I spent teaching. There’s just not time enough in life to argue with foregone conclusions (eg. “My life is ruined.”) E. calls this “A little simplistic” and I’m sure that’s true, but it’s so great when you find something that you can be a little simplistic about and not get burnt by the complications… “I’m not getting dragged into someone else’s depression” is one of those.

Talking to E. did sort of show me how depression is a disease though, like others, but weirder. Not that he’s got it like late-stage cancer... just that he needs a good dose of chemo at Sloane Kettering.

And as usual, the most important thing is friends. Why don’t people talk about this more?

Love
Alexis